155 BPM
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: Grissom... on the treadmill.


Thanks: goes to hyacinthian who enjoys flat soda. You have no idea how happy this makes me. Because... at least I'm writing _CSI_ again? And that makes me happy?

* * *

Her finger stabbed at the resistance button, cranking the machine up to 11. The pleasing hum as the gears shifted and bent to her will a familiar sound; Sara grit her teeth and forged ahead into mile seven. Her attention was divided between the televisions mounted above and the people constantly rotating on and off the machines, people of every shape and size. That was why she'd chosen this gym for membership; it wasn't populated by the lithe twenty-somethings and testosterone-happy drones that had come to populate the ones she'd chosen previous.

This was... a melting pot of body types and she liked that. There were no real coordinated workout outfits and no teeny shorts. Men wouldn't gawk at the women and the women weren't putting on a show for the men. Everyone there had one goal: getting in shape, and Sara enjoyed watching her fellow gym-goers as they tried to attain that goal.

Her eyes flicked up to CNN and she watched the ticker list off the latest status of GM. After a brief eye roll, Sara licked her lips and sucked in another deep breath, lengthened her stride and prepared to dig in for another mile. Between her ears, her workout mix screamed encouragement and her chest swelled with determination. Nothing would keep her from running the San Francisco marathon this spring, nothing.

As the pounding of her feet on the rubber resonated in her ears, she split her attention between the televisions mounted above her and the people that were using the machines in front of her. Rachel Maddow, girl doing squats in the corner. Geico commercial, Grissom on the treadmill. Weather update-

Grissom... on the treadmill.

For a moment, she allowed her eyes to linger. He was walking at a brisk pace, focusing intently on whatever he had leaned against the control panel. Clad in gray sweatpants and a UCLA t-shirt, he seemed completely at ease on the equipment. The image of him working out might have made her laugh if it wasn't so damned surreal. Oh, oh, she hoped he didn't see her and briefly, she contemplated stepping off her elliptical and rushing out of there. As quickly as the thought had manifested, it vanished; how silly of her! They were two adults, co-workers and there was no reason for her to feel as strange as she was just because she was witnessing her boss perform a recreation that millions of people did every day.

Perhaps it was the notion that she didn't view Grissom as a man who conducted himself the way "everyday people" would. He was of a different caliber, an enigma. Catching movement out of her periphery, she glanced over and saw him swipe at the sweat beading on his forehead with a gym-issue towel; guilty, her eyes focused on the heart monitor on her machine. Was it awful to wonder if they had ever used the same towel? Had the fibers brushed against her how as it brushed against his?

Again, she rolled her eyes. What in the name of hell was she thinking?

Turning her attention back to her distance meter, she resolved to finish up her last two miles and slink away as inconspicuously as possible. It wouldn't be fair to confront him, it might make him uncomfortable. There was no need to acknowledge that they both worked out at the same gym. What purpose would that serve? With a quick squirt of water into her mouth, she pedaled harder, wanting to reach ten miles as soon as possible.

As her iPod shuffled into a new song, she tipped her head up and as she did so, he tipped his head up and they were left staring at one another, each attempting to keep their feet functioning on their machines. Sara was the first to react, smiling slightly and tipping her chin in greeting. In return, Grissom gave a small wave and turned his head back down, though not before she caught a glimpse of the crimson rising in his cheeks.

Though she committed back to her workout, Sara couldn't help but sneak quick glances at him. Eventually, when she trudged into 9.5 miles, the sweat had saturated the collar of his shirt and matted some of his curls to his head. The image struck Sara in such a way that she became ashamed at herself; how could she possibly, _possibly_ find him sexy now? But the fact was that she did, and the butterflies that stirred in her stomach as she witnessed this base human reaction from him were a sure sign of that. The last half-mile was an angry blur as she moved her legs hard and fast in an attempt to punish herself for thinking such thoughts, in an attempt to banish them.

When the machine beeped at ten miles, Sara grabbed her towel and swiped at her face hard, erasing the traces of sweat. On shaky legs, she stepped down from the elliptical and walked across the row of machines, hastily moving down the carpeted walkway towards the locker rooms. Their eyes locked again as she walked towards his row of treadmills and this time, she waved and he smiled and instead of stopping, she increased her speed and nearly ran into the women's room. Reaching her locker, Sara slid her hands upon the wood before allowing her head to fall against it.

Would she need to find another gym? Could they ignore this? Was this such an issue, honestly, that she had to feel this odd? She didn't know, and certainly wasn't about to delve into the intricacies of why she felt the way she did in an overly-lit, dank locker room. She closed her eyes and shoved the key into her locker, extracting her things; it took her less than two minutes to get dressed and head out, back onto the main floor.

She looked at her feet as she headed for the door and jumped when someone reached out and grabbed her arm. "Ah, wha-"

"I didn't know you frequented this gym," came the familiar voice. There was no preamble and no hesitation in his voice. Why would there be? This wasn't a strange situation at all. Not at all... It was a trial, trying to train her eyes on him, attempting not to let her gaze to fall to her shoes.

Sara shoved her hands into the pockets of her windbreaker with more force than necessary. "Yeah, yeah, it's, you know, it's close enough to my apartment and to the lab, so..."

Grissom nodded, she nodded, she caught the slightest whiff of his scent. They stalled. His manner unsettled her to such a degree that she struggled with a way to end the encounter. Clearly, this happenstance wasn't actually meant to happen, regardless of how giddy she was at speaking when he was out of his element.

"Yes, the law enforcement discount!" she added, biting down on her lip.

"Yes!" he agreed and it was back to worrying his towel.

Sara's eyes glanced up to the ceiling and then down to the floor and finding the tension too much, approached the subject. "Look, I know this is... weird, but there's no reason for it to be... you know..."

"Weird?" he added, with a delightfully playful quirk to his lip.

"Yeah," she laughed, "That." With a tug of the bag that was slung over her shoulder, strap digging into the skin of her shoulder. "So I guess I'll... see you tomorrow, wait, tonight?"

"At work or... here?"

Sara smiled, felt something flutter about in her stomach, felt as though maybe she was becoming a little dizzy. "Both?"

Slowly, he nodded and smiled and she was overcome with the urge to run. "Well, until tonight."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed towards the men's locker room. Sara took a moment and then turned towards the exit, off-kilter in a way that she couldn't place. As she stepped into the cool dampness of the pre-dawn, Sara couldn't decide if she should lose sleep about the night's work or not.

---

Neither of them acknowledged that they had run into one another at the gym, that evening at work. Aside from a warmer smile than usual and a raised brow when he caught her grabbing her gym bag from her locker, it was as though the encounter hadn't happened at all.

But when she found herself casually glancing over at the doorway as she worked on her triceps, she knew that this probably wasn't healthy. Sara had become distracted and that was detrimental to her state of mind while working out. Generally, she came here to clear her mind, focus on her body, her energy, her chi. She's joined to better herself _for_ herself, and now she was... distracted.

With a low grunt, she pressed down on the tricep dip, completing rep fifteen of twenty. The muscles in her arms protested the weight, but she was determined to finish the set. On her nineteenth press, she saw him out of the corner of her eye and on the twentieth, she set the weights down with a tad less care than she should have; they clanked loudly and drew his attention.

'Dear. God. Why.' she thought to herself as her eyes slid closed and she cringed. Upon opening them, she saw him meandering over to her machine, gym bag slung casually over his shoulder, looking incredibly un-bosslike in a tight black t-shirt, much tighter than the one she'd seen him in the day previous. Had he worn that for her, knowing that she would be there, knowing that she would see him like that? Though the thought was silly, it caused a thrill to run briskly up her spine; she fought the shiver.

"Arms today?" he asked calmly, and gazed down at her.

Sara glanced up and grabbed her towel, swiped at her cheeks out of habit. "Weight training, yeah," she sounded slightly out of breath.

It could have been her imagination, it could have been her lack of hydration but in that moment, she could have sworn that she aw Grissom give her the once over. "To what... end?" he ask, voice just a touch raspy. Another thrill ran through her at the uncommon tone of his voice.

Sara gulped, resolving to end her membership as soon as her training session today was through; this was too much. "I uh... the San Francisco Marathon. Not that I need to train uhm, technically as much but... staying in shape is..."

Grissom chuckled, "Yes, it is." Pursing his lips, he took a step back. "And, when you get to be my age-" she rolled her eyes before she even thought about what he'd said, and Grissom chuckled again. "When you get to be my age, it's best that you start looking out for your heart." With two fingers, he tapped his chest, as though she wouldn't understand what he was talking about.

Sara's lip curled up into a smiled. "Mm, cholesterol and all that," she added helpfully and stood, praying to whomever that she hadn't left sweat streaks on the bench. Again, they fell into a silence and blessedly, it wasn't as awkward as it had been the evening previous.

"Well," he said and took another step back, tugged on the strap of his bag. "I'll see you... around." Nodding his head, he turned to go.

"Yep, around!" she replied and could have kicked herself.

Briefly, he turned back to wink at her and then headed in the direction of the locker rooms.

No, no, she could manage to retain her membership here, if only she could stop looking and acting like such an idiot when she ran into him. Resolving to work on controlling her nerves during any future spontaneous meetings, she moved over to the bicep curl machine and began her set there.

---

"So, the San Francisco Marathon?" he said so casually, he could have been asking her to pass the sugar. They were both seated at the table in the break room, she running over a list of recent lab results, he scanning the New York Times Business section. Sara looked up, finger still holding her place on the sheet of paper before her.

Clearing her throat, she spoke, "Yeah, yeah, it's in July." Sara couldn't think of what else to say in response to his question, so she left it at that, blinked at him twice and then returned to reading the results.

"Have you run it before?" Seriously, his voice was so aloof and banal that it didn't exactly jive with what he was asking her. Grissom was asking her about her personal life, inquiring as to her time outside of work. He'd done it before, but in the capacity of a supervisor. He'd done it before, year's ago, under the guise of friendship. Now, now when she didn't know what they were to one another, he was doing it again.

Again, she looked up from her results. "Twice," she offered. "The first time was on a dare, the second time... I actually ran it."

Grissom raised a brow and made eye contact with her; she swallowed, hard. "What was your time?"

Sara smiled to herself, pursed her lips. "Well, the first time, somewhere in the range of six and a half hours but when I _actually_ ran it, just under five."

With a precision she has come to expect from him, he folded the paper and set it neatly on the table. Grissom then got up from the table and walked to the coffee machine, speaking with his back turned to her. "And is that a good time? I would expect it to be."

With his back turned, she allowed herself to mouth 'what the fuck' into the nothingness of the room before answering. "It's average, I guess." Sara's eyes scan the room in nervousness; becoming embroiled in conversations like this, she has to get used to it. There's no forseeable end to them running into one another at the gym and perhaps she should make the most of this opportunity, use it as a jumping off point to rebuilding their old friendship. "I'm shooting for better this time, going to try to shave twenty minutes off of that."

The sound of coffee being poured in a mug filled the gap in speaking. "That's rather ambitious."

"Well," she began slightly taken-aback, "I think I can make it happen."

He responded immediately, "Oh, I have no doubt." With that he smiled and made for the door. Just before he exited, he spun back, "Will I be running into you this evening?" And after a beat, "Pardon the pun."

Sara laughed though not at his less-than-amusing choice of words. He was wondering about her; was he looking forward to seeing her, or was he perhaps attempting to establish when he should arrive at the gym in order to avoid her? Knowing she didn't have the time to mull ofver the question, she slipped her papers into the file and closed it. "Well, I have an extensive cross train tonight, so yeah."

The light that appeared in his eyes, just for a second, and she understood the situation for what it was: Grissom was trying to know her, get closer to her. A flush rose to her cheeks and in that instant, she didn't know how to feel about that.

Grissom didn't respond, just nodded and dipped his head, winding his way back through the hall to his office.

---

Sara had chosen to run over to the gym that evening, after she'd gone home to change. It was only twenty minutes away on foot, and the evening air had blown damp and cool, the perfect night for a run. Donning her reflective pants and iPod band she'd set out across town towards the gym. By the time she'd made her way through the door, she was sufficiently warmed up. Nodding to the front desk attendant, she made her way to the stair machine and hopped on. It was difficult, but she managed to keep her eyes down as she set the controls to her desired settings.

Afterward, she turned her eyes up towards the televisions hanging from the ceiling. 'Do not look around, don't. You're here for one reason...' But she couldn't help it. Sara found herself allowing her eyes to wander around the machines in front of her. Grissom was nowhere to be found, not on the treadmill or the bikes or...

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a UCLA shirt and there he was, working with the free weights in front of the wall-length mirror. His eyes met hers and this time there was no smile accompanying them. He'd been watching her all along, she felt it in his gaze. At a loss for actions, she quirked the right side of her mouth in a half-smile and returned her attention to the television. Sara managed to work her way through an entire mile before her eyes sought him out again.

Turning off the machine, she hopped down and swiped at her face with a towel, scanning the large room for him. After another pass with her eyes, she determined that he must have left, and thus sh turned and made her way to the rowing machine, needing to take her mind off of him. She'd settle in for a long set and sweat her thoughts away, or so she hoped. She seated herself and selected her weight preference, reached out to grab the handles and she felt a tap on her back.

"Tell me," he said, "What does cross-training entail?"

Her skin warmed where he had touched it and she knew, _knew_, that she was blushing. Instead of turning her attention to him, she began rowing on the machine. "Well, it's conditioning," she said as she yanked back on the handles, feeling the strain in her lower back. "You work each group of muscles, try not to leave," she grunted, "Any out."

Sara finished her set, wiped her palms on the thighs of her pants. "I mean," she squirted a stream of water into her mouth, "That's kinda what the elliptical is for but, you know, gotta get more out of the workout than that." Sara settled in for another set, again, at a loss for what to chat about with him. To her surprise, he stood next to the machine and watched her. It took great effort to finish her reps without blushing, without looking over at him, without shaking out of her skin. What was he _doing_? It occurred to her than a man who knew everything about everything would know at least _some_ of the answers to the questions he was asking her. Was he really just putting up a front to have an excuse to talk to her.

If he was looking to throw her for a loop, he'd more than succeeded.

When she finished, she release the handles and leaned back. "Are you interested in cross training or... why do you ask?"

When he only licked his lips and searched for words, she followed with, "What are you _doing_, Griss?" She was annoyed, she was a lot of things.

"I'm..." there was nothing between them, just the tepid air and the mechanical sounds of other people moving on their machines. And so she waited, didn't break eye contact with him. What point was there, now, in hiding her need to find out exactly what the hell all of this was? "Using all of this as a clever ruse to..." His eyes roamed her face where the ghost of a smile began to appear. "Ask you if you'd be so kind as to help me set up my own training routine."

His banal delivery of his request hit in her such a way, she began to laugh. Stepping up from the machine, Sara wiped her hands on her towel. "That's what you're going with?" she asked, lips curved slyly, onto his ruse.

Grissom grinned at her and peered down at his shoes for a moment before gazing at her from under his lashes. "For now, let's go with that."

Shaking her head, she began walking back towards the cardio machines. "You think you can handle me?" she asked in jest.

All he replied with was, "I'm just going to try to keep up."


End file.
